But It Doesn't Mean You Ain't Been On My Mind
by moonchic1023
Summary: A little season 8 comic inspired reunion. One shot. I wrote this ages ago, right after the first comic came out, so it's a little dated and Jossed, but I still like it. Enjoy!


_**A/N: **__**First Spuffy fic I ever wrote and was brave enough to share. It's been posted over on the Spuffy Realm, but I am trying to archive all my fics in one place, so here it is. Reviews appreciated (build my confidence kids!). If you like this one, I may be persuaded to post others that I have written but not yet sent out into the world.**_

_**Standard disclaimers apply.**_

_Will you meet me in the middle, will you meet me in the air?  
Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care?  
Well I tried to fake it, I don't mind sayin', I just can't make it_

Well, I keep on thinkin' bout you, sister golden hair surprise  
And I just can't live without you; can't you see it in my eyes?  
I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find  
But it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind…

~"Sister Golden Hair", America

The locked clicked in agreement with the key as Spike opened the door to his apartment. He was tired. That "disturbance" in Central Park that left the mutilated limbs of bums and stray cats around wasn't linked to a gruesome local gang initiation like the late news had reported. Nope, it was Averite demon, and a mother Averite at that. She didn't take too kindly to Spike's idea of exterminating her and her eggs.

"_Bloody fight took me all night. Thankfully, Averites get a little messy when they feel dawn coming_," he thought. He bent down to pick up the morning paper that the landlord had left outside his door. "Satanic Gangs on the Loose!" he intoned the headline with gusto. "Wonder if those blokes ever get tired of the underserved bad press and just decide to be as bad as they're portrayed."

Spike finally crossed the threshold and walked in, laid the paper down on the kitchen counter, and sluggishly headed toward the fridge for a blood pack. "Food, shower, sleep. Food, shower, sleep. Oh, fuck the shower. Food, sleep," he muttered.

CLICK!

Sleep fled Spike's mind as he mind as he heard a sharp metallic click and saw a small flame out of the corner of his eye. He turned toward the noise, already in game face, growling out a warning to whatever had invaded his home. The growl died in his throat though, as he saw what had caused the click and the flame.

"Hey Spike. About time you got home."

********

The surprise, and maybe a little awe, showed on his face before he could stop it. Even as he was slipping back into his human features, he couldn't hide a moment of shock. But that's all it was, just a moment. A trademarked smirk quickly masked the amazement he felt at seeing the familiar petite blond sitting on his battered black leather sofa.

"Well if it isn't Sister Golden Hair Surprise herself." He nodded a brief greeting. "Forgive my rudeness, Slayer, I didn't sense or smell anyone here." He paused, then frowned. "I still don't."

"Spell." She stated simply, as if that explained everything. He cocked his head at her quizzically and she explained, "Turns out I'm kinda a target for, I don't know, anyone out there that wants a slayer prize? Kind of like another "Slay the Slayer" bad reality show. So Willow worked some mojo and I'm pretty much inviso-girl again. Not so much with the seeing, I guess, but with the sensing and the locating and the smelling. Which, you know, saves money on deodarent," she declared lightly. "Speaking of, smells like you could use some." She wrinkled her nose.

"Demon. Killed it." Spike looked around the apartment uncomfortably. "Well, um, can I offer you anything to drink? Blood, Jack, or some tasty New York tap?"

"No, that's fine. I just stopped by to talk."

"Talk, huh? And maybe return my lighter?" He gestured to the object in her hand that she had lit earlier.

"Oh, yeah. That too." She moved to hand it to him, but he put up a hand in protest.

"No, you keep it. I kicked the habit."

"Oh. Um, thanks." Buffy pulled the lighter back, unconsciously stroking it in her hands. "_I wonder what other habits he's kicked_," she wondered, a little sadly.

"I had wondered where that went, though. Thought maybe little metal objects didn't rematerialize or somethin' like that."

"No, I guess I'm just kinda a pickpocket. I was gonna give it back, I just took it from you that night…"

"Yeah, that…night." They both looked at each other and looked away, thinking of the last time they were together. "Look Slayer, maybe right now's not the best time for a jolly trip down memory lane, yeah? Maybe come back tonight and—"

"No." Buffy stated firmly.

"What?"

"I said no," she reaffirmed. "I came at dawn so that we could talk. So that we could have all day. So that you couldn't run out. So that's what we're going to do. Talk."

Even without being able to sense anything about her, Spike knew she was serious. "Alright then. Talk. We can do that. Mind if I down some blood real quick? Feeling a tad peckish after my all night tussle."

Buffy nodded.

Spike moved back to the refrigerator and pulled out his blood. He turned his back to her while he fed. "_I can't read her_," he thought. "_Not that that's much of a surprise. I couldn't ever really read her, but now I can't even hear her heartbeat. Is she nervous? She doesn't act nervous. But is she really that calm? Bloody chit. Still the death of me, isn't she? Well, that's go see what she wants from ol' Spike this time_."

He finished his blood, threw the bag away, and went to sit on arm on the opposite end of the couch. "_I knew I should have bought a chair, but nooo. I'm the big, bad savior of Christmas and children now, not a flipping socialite. Why buy a chair when no one ever comes here? Because then I wouldn't have to sit on the same piece of furniture as the Slayer, that's why_."

"You didn't heat it?" Buffy pulled Spike out of his thoughts.

"Wha's that?"

"I said, you didn't heat your blood? I thought you hated cold blood?"

"Well, you said you needed to talk, so I just thought we'd cut right to the chase, yeah?"

"Oh. Yeah. Um, so New York, huh?"

"Yeah, made a stop in Cleveland first. Wanted to make sure the rogue slayer and her cross-happy boyfriend were still acting all reformed, but then came here."

"Knew you were in Cleveland." There was a hint of anger, "_Or was that jealousy?_" Spike wondered, in her tone.

"Oh, did you now?"

"You helped one of Faith's newbies, Karen. She was cornered by a nest of vamps and hurt and the next thing she knew was surrounded by piles of dust. She thought she saw a bleached blond head and a duster."

"She'd 'ave done alright on her own. I was just itching for some fight."

"Uh-huh. I've been tracking you since I heard that."

"Oh, you have now?" He eyed her skeptically, "_So what does she want from me so bad?_"

"Yes. I have." Buffy said each word firmly, as if trying to say something more than what those simple words meant.

Spike paused. "Anyway, I kept going east and ended up here. Subways are much better underground transportation than sewers. And, I decided I was just done with California."

"From our reports, sounds like every one was done with California," Buffy quipped, remembering everything she had heard about LA.

"Yes, they were, luv, yes they were," Spike murmured, forgetting about Buffy for a moment while he remembered an alleyway.

"But our reports never did mention survivors. We found out about Wesley, but did anyone…did Angel…?"

"_Angel, of course. She wants to know where the great poofter is_," Spike thought. Out loud though, he said, "Don't rightly know about Peaches or anyone else." He paused. "And I really don't want to think about any of it right now, if ya don't mind."

Buffy looked at the grim line his face was set in and decided not to pursue the line of the questioning. "So, out fighting tonight you said?"

"Yeah, found a mother Averite with a nest of eggs in Central Park that needed to be taken care of. Figured that I didn't have anything better to do, so…" He shrugged.

"Ew, Averites? Aren't they the ones that do that thing with the cats….?"

"Yeah, luv, that's them."

"Ew again. But it's nice to see you still fighting the good fight."

"Yeah, luv, the whole white hat bit seems to have stuck. It doesn't hurt that now I have a shot at the prize at the bottom of the Cracker Jacks box. Makes it a bit more inter—" He stopped quickly and looked at her.

"What prize?" she asked with interest.

"Nothing."

"Spike."

"_God, does she know how good it feels when I hear her voice saying my name. I never thought I would hear that again_," he thought. "I said 'nothing', woman. Leave it."

"Spike, you know I'm just gonna bother you til you tell me what's going on, so just save us some time and energy and spill it, ok?"

He sighed and looked at her. "The prophecy prize. Angel signed off on the whole gettin' to be human part of that doing good prophecy of his. Shanshu or Shamu or whatever."

"What do you mean, signed off?"

"Before we got our party on back in LA, Angel went undercover for a bit and ended up having to magically sign something about him rejecting the prophecy about the souled vamp getting to be human as a reward for saving puppies and such. It's not his reward anymore." He looked at her. "What, if I'm stuck with this whole conscience and do-gooding nonsense, it helps to think that one day I can go tanning because of it." "_And because then, maybe, one day, I'll be good enough to get whatever overbearing girl I get stuck on then_," he added silently to himself.

Now it was Buffy's turn to fail to conceal her surprise. "_All of our resources and spies, and none of them found this out? Giles and I are going to have a chat with the intelligence department when I get back_," she thought as she tried to dial her face back to neutral. "Wow, that's…wow, Spike."

"Yeah. Not like I think it'll actually happen. 'm used to being the whipping boy for the powers that be, but it's nice to think about every once in awhile." Another uncomfortable pause. "Well, Slayer, how's all with you?"

"What?"

"Well, if we're catching up and all, like old friends, the polite thing would be for me to ask you about you and yours. How's the little Niblet and such?"

At that, Buffy started laughing. Hard. Spike looked at her trying to figure out what was so ridiculous. "_Probably thinks it's funny that I referred to us as 'friends', crazy bint_."

Buffy started to calm down. "Oh," she said, gasping for breath, "sorry Spike. It's just, well, *gasp* Dawn's not so *snort* little anymore."

"Well, yeah, I'm sure she's grown up some…"

"No, Spike, it's not that, there was a thricewise and…oh, nevermind. A story for another time. But yes, she's…doing ok."

"Um, alright." "_Should I just go for broke and ask? Oh why the hell not?_" "And you and your latest vampire shag? All hearts and stars and kisses all around?"

That sobered the Slayer. "My what?"

"You and your latest undead boy toy. Oh, don't tell me you've cast him aside already?"

"Spike, really, what are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't play games with me Slayer, I saw you, a year after the Hellmouth, dancing all up on him, not a care in the world."

"I'm going to ask you one last time before I feel you deserved to be punched in the nose, Spike. What are you talking about?!"

Spike got off the couch and walked away from her, then turned around and faced her. "The Immortal, you vamp crazed bint! That, that, cretin who I detest even more than Peaches! Him!"

"The Immortal…? Oh…" Sudden realization dawned on Buffy's face.

"Yes, the Immortal," Spike snapped, "I mean, I knew you weren't telling me the truth when said you lov—, when you said what you did at the Hellmouth, and lord knows I want you to be happy, but him of all people? I would have almost rathered you ended up with Soldier Boy!"

"Spike, listen carefully. I was never with the Immortal. I don't even know him."

"Don't lie to me, Slayer. I saw you, I smelled you all over—"

"Spell."

"Huh?" Spike stopped mid-rant.

"Spell. Remember, you can't smell me. No one can."

"But I'd know that scent anywhere and Andrew said…"

"Andrew said?" Buffy's heart stopped. "You talked to Andrew? Andrew knew you were alive?" Spike nodded. "Andrew's getting his geeky behind kicked with my new boots the next time I see him."

"It was you, Buffy—"

"Joan."

"What?"

"Joan. Joan, it's my name now, technically. Well, that or ma'am." She gave a small laugh. "_But it's so nice to hear you say my name. I never thought I would hear that again_," she thought. "Spike, will you come sit back down so I can explain a few things." He looked at her. "Please." She patted the couch. Cautiously, Spike came and sat back down.

"Ok, remember when I said I had become a target? Well, I am. A giant Buffy-shaped bulls-eye. So, in order to protect me, they made two more of me. One of me is underground…literally. They cast a spell on the body of one of our slayers who died in a battle in Europe. She looks exactly like me, even down to DNA. So if we ever need to get rid of me or I ever want to go into retirement, there I am. Dead and done for the public. But there's also a second one of me who's alive and in Rome. Another slayer all glamoured out to be me, smell and all. She's dating the Immortal and living with Andrew. That's who you saw. However, me, the real me, well, I'm kept hidden. I still run ops and everything, and Xander and other high up people still know me as Buffy. But all my records, my fingerprints, and my name's been changed. As far as baddies go, I'm just another slayer named Joan. Got it?"

Spike had been listening with amazement. "_She's not with the Immortal ponce? She's running ops now?_" But all he asked was, "Why Joan?"

Buffy smiled shyly. "Because I like Joan. Because when I was Joan for that night that year I came back, it was a moment of peace. I didn't remember who I was or what I lost. It was another chance at life. I was rediscovering myself all over again….and rediscovering others without any preconceived notions," she added quietly.

"I remember," Spike said, looking away, seeming almost flustered. "_Can vampires blush?_" Buffy wondered.

"You're right," Spike continued. "That was an….interesting night. Finding out what you would do or how you would act without the past influencing you. I can get why you would use that name to start your life over."

Both of them sat there for a moment in silence, stealing looks at the other.

Buffy broke the silence. "So you came to Rome?"

"For a minute with Peaches."

"And you thought I was with someone else? And you thought I was lying that day in the Hellmouth?"

He looked back at her, then looked down. "Yes."

"And since then, you've been fighting evil on your own with no plan of ever coming and finding me and letting me know that you were back?"

He let out another, muffled, "Yes."

"You're a dope." She said it in a strong voice that came out of no where, then she stood up.

Spike looked up at her, "What?"

"You. Are. A. Dope." She repeated each word emphatically. "Here I am, mourning you, missing you, thinking you're gone forever, and you don't even try to find me so that I know you're ok? You don't even try to get me back in your life?"

"First off, didn't think you'd care, what with the new boy and flashy lifestyle, which I thought were fact at the time. And secondly, what makes you so sure that I even cared about where you were and what you were doing, Slayer?" Spike growled angrily. "There's a whole big world out there, not just you."

"What makes me so sure? Well, I was bored while I was waiting for you to come home, so I started to look through these poetry anthologies on the floor," she gestured to the books and watched Spike wince, "And it seems like a poet named 'Randy Giles' has been getting published a lot for a bunch of poems about 'effulgent sunshine' or something like that."

Spike stood up and looked at her, menacingly. "Yeah. So? What's that hafta do with anything?"

"It has to do with the fact that the minute I heard there was a chance you weren't gone, I was here. You might not have believed me that day, but maybe you'll believe me now. I haven't stopped thinking about you. I'll never stop. And, as much as you want to deny it, there's some pretty good proof lying around here that maybe I've been on your mind too."

"So what? So I have tragic taste in women and write silly ditties in their honor? It's not a newsflash Slayer!"

She stepped closer to him. "So, we've got some stuff coming up, _Randy_. Probably another apocalypse. We've got ourselves a crazy witch and even some military involvement. And if anyone wants to forget the past and start over with a clean slate, well, I'm very much interested in having that person on board."

"Oh, so that's it. Got yourself in more trouble, have ya? Want some Spike muscle to help get you out?"

"You're almost right. I don't want your muscle, I don't even _want_ you. It's more than that. I need you. All of you. You're alive and you're here and I'm not going to waste time anymore. I want you to come with me. And, if you want and when you're ready, I want you to be with me. No secrets, no lies. If you want to just be my friend, that's fine too. I'll take what I can get. But I'm a big girl now, and I know what I want. And it's you. It took you being dead for me to truly realize it, and I apologize for that. Everyone else wanted to protect me. You wanted to fight by my side. And I want you to be by my side, in a fight, in life, always. When I told you I loved you, I meant it." She took a breath. "Quite frankly, Spike, I don't like my life without you in it."

Spike stood there, paralysed. He didn't know what to do. He had to be dreaming. Had to be. That or that Averite really did kill him and he was in heaven. Buffy was here. She'd continued to think about him. She wanted him, no she _needed_ him. She needed him in her life and wanted other people to know about it.

"I understand that you might not still feel the same way about me—"

Her words broke him out of his shocked daze. Without warning, he pulled her head toward him and kissed her. Screw the Shanshu, this was the reward he wanted. He pulled her even closer and kissed her with everything he had. It was Buffy, no one else could have that taste, spell be damned.

Suddenly, she pulled back from him. His eyes opened quickly, waiting for a rebuke, waiting for the pinch to come and end the dream. "Well?" she asked. "I've got a limo with necro-tempered glass outside, a five star hotel waiting with a bath ready for you, and a jet out of town tomorrow. I hate to rush you, but—"

"I'm coming."

"Really?" She smiled, one of those true golden smiles that made the poet in him melt and reach for a pen.

"Really, pet. Don't fancy on letting you and yours go into another apocalypse and bugger it all up just when I've found something to live for. I think a clean slate is just what we need. Plus, I'd wager that the Whelp misses me too."

"Oh, please, if not for me, come back for that. He's gone all Sergeant Comic Geek Commander lately. You need to pack anything?"

"No, pet, I've got all I need right here." He looked into her eyes and groaned. "And you're already making me sound like a bloody ponce."

She giggled. "I like it. You sound like that dreamy poet, Randy," she teased.

"C'mon Joan, let's go check out these digs of yours and get me cleaned up and up to date on whatever mess you've found yourself in now."

The couple walked out of the apartment, down the stairs, and into the limo. Suddenly, the serene early morning silence was broken by an outraged cry:

"Wait a minute? A thricewise?!?! And Dawn's not so little anymore?!? The bastard would dare—! Where is he, I'll rip his 'ead off!!!"

_**So there you go kids, my first story out there. *peeks around corner nervously* If you didn't get some of the references in the story, I highly recommend checking out the season eight comics. So let me know how you feel about my little fic, if I should share more or just go back into lurking mode and read fic instead of writing it.**_


End file.
